Of Friends and Lovers
by Karen T
Summary: You can't walk away from someone who was never really there. (Josh/Sam/Lisa fic)
1. Part One: Prologue

TITLE: Of Friends and Lovers

AUTHOR: Karen T

DISCLAIMERS: Characters you don't recognize are mine. Everyone else belongs to Aaron Sorkin et al.

SPOILERS: Serious (and I can't stress that word enough) spoilers for "100,000 Airplanes."

ARCHIVE: I'd be honored. Just let me know where so I can visit.

FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. Please send to poohmusings@yahoo.com.

NOTES: This story began as a response to the Sam Seaborn Fan Fic Archive 500-word Sam/Lisa break-up challenge, but it then took on a life of its own as I tried to hash out why it is Josh and Lisa hate each other, how Sam and Lisa met, and how they broke up. As it stands now, the story goes through a lot of years. It starts and ends in 2002, but pays short visits to the years of 1983, 1991, and 1997 in the middle. I hope no one gets lost and that everyone enjoys the story.

**__**

Part One: Prologue

"We almost had one as big." Sam stares at Lisa and waits for her to offer up the obligatory follow-up question that would allow him to explain himself. She, however, either didn't hear him or is blatantly ignoring him. Hoping it's the former reason, he decides to repeat himself. "We almost had one as big."

Lisa looks up from her notepad with interest. "What was it?"

"We almost cured cancer." He says it as if its exclusion from the speech is inconsequential.

"Really?"

Sam holds him right hand in front of his chest and measures out an inch with his index finger and thumb. "This close."

"What happened?"

"Just one of those things." He shrugs and walks away, signaling that he's ready to move on to a different subject.

But Lisa knows him too well. She knows that he wouldn't have mentioned the cure for cancer if it were a subject he wanted to dismiss so quickly. She knows he wants to talk about it, and she knows he wants her to push the issue. So she complies, partly because that's her job as a journalist, but also because it's a familiar routine for her and Sam and she's willing to indulge in it once more for old time's sake. "What do you mean 'It's one of those things'? We're talking about cancer and a cure for it. That's a big deal."

Sam's weaving his way through the Communications Department to the post-speech party and pretends that he didn't catch her last comments. Cupping a hand behind his right ear, he asks, "What? What did you say?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes. So, he wants to play the extended version of their little game. She could handle that. Shoving her way past several West Wing staffers in order to keep up with Sam, she's about to tap him on the shoulder when he pushes open one side of a set of swinging doors and walks into a room full of applauding occupants. It's his time to shine, so Lisa relents and allows him to soak up the praise without her peppering him with questions.

He acknowledges the assembled crowd with a nod and a smile and announces, "Thank you. I'm at HaHa's in Cleveland on the 16th, and be sure to tip the waitresses."

Lisa cringes at his feeble attempt at humor. She could remember times when he was able to crack funnier jokes while hung over and suffering from food poisoning. What have they done to her Sam? But before her emotions overcome her, she catches herself and remembers that he's no longer 'her' Sam, just like she's no longer 'his' Lisa. You can't start thinking in terms of possessive pronouns, she warns herself as she pretends to be enraptured with the nonsense she is currently scribbling on her notepad. She has to take a few shallow breaths before feeling composed enough to see where Sam has gone.

To her dismay, she sees Josh drawing him into one of those 'manly' hugs, which involves lots of back slapping and minimal body touching. As the two are pulling away from each other, Josh notices Lisa for the first time.

"Lisa," he greets her coolly.

"Josh," she returns in the same manner.

"Still trying to get waived into Generation X?"

"Still a pompous jackass?"

"Oh, you betcha."

Sam winces at their exchange. It's been over four years since Josh and Lisa have seen each other, and yet they have resumed their genteel sparring as if it is still 1997. Their animosity towards one another is something Sam has never been able to understand, and he doubts he ever will. After one last word of congratulations, Josh takes his leave and Sam heads over to the bar for a drink. "Jack Daniels," he orders, which makes Lisa wonder when he began to drink whiskey.

"So, about this cure for cancer…" she begins, falling back into journalist mode.

"It got cut." Sam turns his body so that Lisa finds herself looking at his left shoulder rather than the side profile of his face. This shift in posture feels like an affront and she struggles for a moment to hide her hurt. She stares at the proverbial cold shoulder being offered to her as a barrage of questions runs through her mind. How did we get here, Sam? How did you develop into the esteemed White House Deputy Director of Communications while I sank to the level of being the shallow writer from _Vanity Fair_? How did we let this empty space between us become so cluttered with unspoken regrets and grievances that we now can't have a normal, congenial conversation? And how, Sam, did you allow yourself to turn your back on me so quickly and so easily, as if I never meant anything to you?


	2. Part Two: Nothing Like a Little Luck

**__**

Part Two: Nothing Like a Little Luck

The smell of garlic hung heavily in the air and enveloped Lisa as she entered her apartment and hung her set of keys on one of the empty hooks next to the door. Shrugging off her long, wool overcoat, she smiled because it was Sam's night to cook, which meant she would enjoy a sumptuous home-cooked meal. Who would have guessed that her idealistic and endearingly clumsy fiancé, who sacrificed action verbs and punctuation in favor of well thought out arguments, was also an amateur chef?

She had one shoe off and was in the process of removing the other one when she paused in the entrance to the kitchen to observe Sam in action. With his shirtsleeves rolled up, he was using a wooden spoon to stir the bubbling contents in a skillet while he consulted an open cookbook. Since his back was half to her and she didn't think he'd realized yet that she was home, she leaned against the doorframe and smiled more broadly. How did I ever land Sam Seaborn, she asked herself. And how is it even possible that he actually wants to marry me?

"You know, it's really creepy the way you're always stopping to stare at me," Sam declared as he turned to look at her, a devilish grin on his face. "Makes me feel like your boy-toy or something."

"Are you saying you're _not_ my boy-toy?" Lisa teased in response. "Well, that's it then. The engagement's off."

"Okay."

"Wait, that's it? Just 'okay'? You're not going to try and talk me out of my decision?"

"Well, you can be pretty long-winded and I've got to keep my attention on this sauce or else it'll burn.

"I can't believe you'd rather save your sauce than me." Lisa slipped off her remaining shoe and playfully tossed it in Sam's direction. It came within an inch of hitting his butt, but ended up sailing right by him and falling onto the floor after striking the dishwasher with a thud.

Sam craned his head to look at the shoe, now lying on the floor behind him. "Why did you do that?" he asked, sounding slightly wounded. "You know I'll end up tripping over it at some point."

"Oh, Sam." Lisa walked towards him and, in one fluid motion, scooped up her shoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Think we sound like one of those annoying old married couples who squabble over the stupidest things?"

"Nah. I think we've got a couple more months of cohabitation before we get there."

"Thank God," she sighed sarcastically. "You have a good day today?"

"It was all right. Met with Cameron and the rest of his entourage. I think the oil tanker thing will get wrapped up soon."

"Hey, that's good, isn't it? Why do you sound so down at the prospect of finally being done with Cameron?"

"I don't know. I'm just…I'm wondering if maybe this isn't for me."

"What isn't for you? Being a lawyer? I thought you love being a lawyer."

"I _do_, but…protecting big companies from litigation? I don't think I ever planned on that being my specialty."

"But isn't big company litigation Gage Whitney's main focus?"

"Yeah."

"So, if you become partner there, then the odds are there'll only be more of this in your future. Right?"

"Yeah."

"And you're wondering now – a month before Gage Whitney is going to make you partner – whether big company litigation is what you want to do?"

"Yeah."

Lisa hoisted herself onto a stool and propped her elbows up on the countertop. With her head resting in the palms of her hands, she studied Sam's conflicted facial expression before asking, "Sam, what's going on? Did something happen at work today that you're not telling me about?"

"What?" He looked up from the stove and saw her staring back at him, visibly concerned. "No, Lis, I'm fine. I'm…I guess I'm a little freaked out about being made partner. I mean, that's a pretty serious commitment. No one walks away from a firm after being made partner."

Lisa considered accepting his explanation, but knew he was still hiding something from her. "If you ever want to walk away from something, Sam, I'll always support your decision. No matter what."

His gaze fell back down to his pan full of simmering tomatoes. His cheeks were burning, and while that could have been a result of the heat coming off of the stove, he was pretty sure it was something else. Why does she love me, he asked himself. What does she see in me? Scooping up a generous serving of the sauce, Sam held the spoon under his lips and blew on it for a few seconds. "Here, try this." He offered the sampling of sauce to Lisa and waited expectantly for her opinion as she closed her mouth over the tip of the spoon.

"Mm," she murmured seconds later, her eyes widening in pleasure, "basil. I _love_ basil."

"I know. That's why I added it in there even though the recipe doesn't call for it."

"You're so good to me."

They locked eyes with one another and lapsed into an erotically charged silence until Sam remembered his sauce and how he needed to be stirring it. Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from Lisa's blue ones and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't spent an hour dicing tomatoes, garlic, onions, and basil only to have it all go to waste because he and Lisa suddenly got horny. If they wanted to skip dinner on her nights to cook, then that was fine with him. But he was determined to make sure they didn't miss any of his dinners. "Hey, you'll never guess who showed up at my office this morning."

"Okay. Then tell me who did." Lisa had her head cocked to one side and was wrapping a strand of hair around her right index finger in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

"Uh…" Sam was momentarily entranced by the hypnotic way in which Lisa was playing with her hair. Forcing himself to look up at the ceiling and pretend to be engrossed with what he was seeing, he mumbled, "What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Josh. He was the, uh, the one who stopped by."

At the mention of Josh's name, Lisa dropped her hand back down onto the counter. "Josh? As in Josh Lyman?"

"Yeah. He was on his way to New Hampshire for a meeting or something."

"Well, that explains everything."

"Explains what?"

"Why you're suddenly doubting your career decisions. Josh excels at making a person do that."

"Oh, c'mon. That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. Josh has a penchant for doing that. He did it to me within a minute of introducing himself."

"Lisa…"

"No, Sam, I'm serious. I know you two are close while Josh and I haven't exactly been buddy-buddy lately, but let's not forget that I've known him longer than you have."

*~*

With the wind chill factored in, Josh estimated it was probably around ten degrees Fahrenheit outside, which was thirty degrees too cold for him. For the past four days, weathermen had been predicting that a huge snowstorm would descend upon the entire state of Massachusetts, but with not even one snowflake having fallen yet, they changed their minds that morning and instead forecasted freezing temperatures with a _chance_ of snow. Josh loved how none of them seemed to know what they were doing. And it boggled his mind when he thought about how they all got paid to make guesses. Well, if going to college didn't work out for him, at least there was always a possible career in meteorology.

He leaped up the few steps leading to the front door of his apartment building (which was really a three-story house that had been divided into five apartments) and inserted his key into the deadbolt. Just as he was about to unlock the door, a swift wind from the east blew through the porch and almost knocked him over.

"Shit," he cursed as he grabbed on to the doorframe to steady himself. Twisting the key, he squared up like a linebacker and shoved his way into the house as a burst of cold air followed him in. After succeeding in closing the door behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief, yanked his gray knit cap off of his head, and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. Finals were two weeks away and he was teetering on the edge of full-on panic. Even though he'd done an admirable job of not falling behind in his classes, Josh still felt like he had a ton of reading to catch up on. It was his second to last semester at Harvard, and while he knew he should be living up his final undergraduate year like some of his friends were, he also knew that Yale Law was unlikely to accept him if he didn't do well in his remaining classes. This meant that, after grabbing a bite to eat in his apartment and changing the books he had in his backpack, he'd have to brave the cold again as he made his way to the nearest campus library. He wished he could stay inside his somewhat warm (but definitely warmer than it was outside) apartment and study, but the combination of paper-thin walls, his roommate, Chris, and Chris's girlfriend, Amy, made for a less than ideal studying situation. He wished he could be more like his roommate: not study, not research, not do much of anything except eat, drink, have sex, and sleep, and yet still make exceptional grades. Sometimes, he really hated Chris.

As Josh let himself into his apartment, he began counting off on his fingers the assignments he wanted to complete while at the library: proofread paper for Constitutional History class…reread Chapters 28 and 29 on Ethical Theories…review Doug's notes from last week's Politics and Government in Eastern Europe lectures…

He was so entrenched in his thoughts that he almost made it all the way to his room before noticing that a girl was sitting Indian-style on his and Chris's futon couch. Turning around, he eyed this girl for a second and then stated, "Hello."

She pulled her eyes away from the images flashing across the TV screen and smiled. "Hi. You must be the roommate. I'm the little sister."

"Oh, that's right," Josh mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. "Chris mentioned something about us having a visitor this weekend. He probably said it was you but, honestly, I wasn't really listening at the time."

"That's okay. I don't usually listen when my brother talks, either."

Josh laughed and flung his backpack onto the empty seat next to her on the couch. "So you guys are gonna what? Hang out this weekend?"

"Yeah, that's the plan, but…" She glanced at Chris's closed bedroom door and made a face. "I don't know if that's gonna happen. I don't think Chris is too thrilled about how Dad's making him show me around Harvard this weekend."

"You thinking of applying for the fall?" Josh asked distractedly as he rifled through the contents of his backpack.

"No, I'm going to be _going_ here in the fall. Early admission. Found out last week."

Josh looked up from his examination of his bag when he heard how she made attending Harvard sound like she would be headed to her execution. "You don't want to come here?"

"Oh, Harvard's great and I'm honored that it accepted me, but it wasn't exactly my first choice for where I wanted to go for college. I didn't even want to go the whole early admission route, but my dad insisted because it would increase my odds of getting in. And I _had_ to get in because Granddad went to Harvard, Dad went to Harvard, Mom went to Radcliffe, and Chris is here now. Can't break family tradition, you know," she explained caustically with a roll of her eyes.

Josh ducked his head and felt a pang of sympathy for this young girl he'd just met. He knew how difficult it could be to follow family traditions and live up to family expectations. Even though he was older and, therefore, supposedly wiser, he found himself clueless as to what he should do next. Should he pretend he didn't notice had sad she looked? Should he give her a friendly punch in the arm and tell her to buck up? Should he barge into Chris's room and demand that he look after his sister like he was supposed to? Luckily, Josh was saved from having to make a choice because the girl suddenly looked back in his direction and smiled. "I'm Lisa, by the way. And I'm not usually this whiny. I swear."

He held out an icy hand and returned the smile. "Josh Lyman. And don't worry about the whining 'cause you haven't really experienced whining until you've heard your brother when the furnace to this place breaks down." They laughed and Josh asked, "So, if it wasn't for the Sherborne love of Harvard, where would you have wanted to find yourself in the fall?"

"Berkeley," she responded without any hesitation.

"That 'cause it's on the other side of the country from your parents?"

"No, that would just be an added bonus. I plan on majoring in English and Berkeley's got one of the best English departments in the country."

"English?" Josh shook his head disapprovingly. "You plan on living off your parents forever, huh?"

"What's that suppose to mean? English is a perfectly good major."

"Of course it is, and it's right up there on the list of subjects you should major in if you plan on wasting perfectly good money while in college."

"What? My, my, Mr. Lyman, aren't we full of ourselves tonight? Now it makes perfect sense why there are _all those girls_ beating down that door for you."

Josh tried to glare at Lisa for insulting him, but he instead found himself grinning. During the past year, he and Chris had kind of drifted apart as friends – especially since Amy had appeared on the scene – but he saw flashes of his old relationship with his roommate when he exchanged barbs with Lisa. She was currently smirking at him as she practically oozed overconfidence. "All right, Miss Sherborne, you win. Go ahead and major in English. Just don't come crying to me four years from now when you can't find a job for the life of you." He tossed his backpack over his left shoulder and headed in the direction of his room. "I'm just gonna grab some things and then I'll be out of your hair."

Lisa's triumphant smile quickly vanished. "Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yup."

"Oh, yeah, of course. You probably have a bunch of plans with friends and stuff. Have fun."

The dejection in her voice was unmistakable. Josh looked in the direction of Chris's room and knew that his roommate had probably forgotten all about his visiting sister. Feeling delightfully chivalrous, he stopped a foot from his room and called out, "How old are you, Lisa?"

"Seventeen. Why?"

"A friend of mine is throwing a party tonight and, if you promise not to do anything stupid – like sneak some beer behind my back – you can come with me if you want."

"Really?" Lisa gasped. She jumped to her feet and was about to envelop him with a hug when she turned serious. "You don't have to feel like you're obligated to baby-sit me for Chris."

"I know and I'm not. Truth be told, I was going to spend tonight at the library. And, yes, I know how sad that sounds, so don't remind me, please. But finals are coming and if I don't enjoy myself tonight, then I'm probably not going to until the end of the semester. Anyway, I now feel like it's my responsibility to show you that Cambridge isn't such a bad place to find yourself stuck in."

"You sure you're not gonna mind me trailing after you all night?"

"No, I'm not gonna mind. Yes, I want you to come along. Now, can we go or do you want to continue quizzing me some more?"

Lisa grabbed her scarf and jacket from off the floor and clapped her hands excitedly. "Let's go!"

"Okay. We'll go eat some dinner first since I'm starving. We should probably leave a note telling Chris where you are, huh?"

"I doubt he'll even notice I'm gone."

"Yeah, but still…" Josh tore a sheet of paper from one of his notebooks and scribbled a two sentence message on it for his roommate. "Okay, let's roll."

As he held the apartment door open for Lisa, she walked by him gleefully jabbering, "Oh, this is going to be so much fun. My friend Darlene is absolutely gonna die when I tell her that I went to a college party. And when you said that stuff about me not drinking any beer, you just meant until we get settled in, right?"

Josh chuckled and shook his head. "Lisa…"

"Well, how about a sip then? No one can get drunk off a sip of beer. I think that's been, like, proven impossible by some scientist in England."

They were marching down the stairs to the front door with Lisa in the lead, her hands gesticulating wildly in front of her. Only half-listening to the innocent teenage drivel coming from her mouth, Josh covered his grin with his left hand and looked upwards. He was certain that, wherever she was, Joanie was having a huge laugh over the fact that the roles had somehow reversed themselves; _he_ was now the 'older sibling.'

"Miss ya," he whispered as he followed Lisa out on to the porch.

"What?" She turned around and gazed at him with wide eyes.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"Oh, I thought you did. Anyway, as I was saying, I knew you'd be a cool guy the minute I saw you because of the way you walk. It's not one of those really fast I-need-to-get-somewhere-so-don't-get-in-my-way kind of walks, but it's also not a look-at-me-I'm-so-cool-because-I-walk-slow walks. It's more like a laid-back, it's-all-gonna… Hey, look. It's finally snowing."

*~*

"Have I mentioned how happy I am that this'll be the last time I have to do this?"

"Yes. Repeatedly."

While she continued pulling her shoulder-length hair into a bun, Lisa turned her head slightly to the right and flashed a smile at her friend and co-worker. "You could sound a little happier for me, Is."

"Honey, I was happy for you the first time you mentioned it. I was happy for you the fifth time you mentioned it. But now, you're just gettin' on my nerves."

Lisa laughed and held out her right hand for the hair clip Isabel had been holding for her. "But it's a momentous day. After two years of supplementing my meager Chronicle salary by doing this catering schtick part-time, I am _finally_ moving on to bigger and better things. You're lucky I'm not breaking out into song over it."

"Oh, God help us if you do," Isabel groaned dramatically as she pressed the back of her left hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

The two woman fell into a fit of laughter and were attempting to recover from it when an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a grave demeanor swept into the kitchen and barked, "I don't believe I'm paying you ladies to stand around and discuss the latest trends in fashion."

Lisa and Isabel righted themselves and immediately became somber. "Sorry, Ms. Murphy," Lisa apologized. "We were just—"

"I don't care what you two were doing. All I care about is what you two were _not_ doing, which was serving our very thirsty and very hungry guests. Would you care to do your jobs now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As Lisa grabbed a silver tray loaded with half-full glasses of champagne, she turned to Isabel and whispered, "Have I mentioned how happy I am that this'll be the last time I have to do this?"

Making sure to keep her tray balanced at all times, Lisa meandered her way through the well-dressed and well-coifed crowd that had gathered inside of the renowned Millford mansion. She politely offered the guests champagne, smiled when others smiled at her, and more or less kept herself both unseen and unheard. From the ways in which people were schmoozing, name dropping, and bashing Republicans, Lisa ascertained that the party had something to do with politics and a lot to do with Democrats. With only one glass of champagne left on her tray, she was about to head back to kitchen when she overheard someone behind her snottily declare, "Well, I don't care what he says because the man's an idiot! As my mom used to say, he'd be sure to lose his head if it wasn't for his neck keeping it attached to his body."

Even though those around him disagreed with his comments, the man vehemently stuck to his position and refused to listen to any of their arguments. Lisa knew of only one person who could be _that_ cocky. "Josh Lyman?"

"Yeah?" Josh spun around at the sound of his name and found himself face-to-face with one of the waitresses. She was grinning from ear to ear and appeared to be patiently waiting for him to remember who she was. It took him a few seconds of wracking his brain before he was able to recall why she seemed so familiar. "Lisa?"

She nodded and squealed with glee as she almost threw her arms around the man she thought of as her surrogate older brother. Fortunately for her, she remembered at the very last second that she was still carrying one glass of champagne on her tray. Spotting a young man about her age who was peering around Josh's shoulder, she held the tray out to him and ordered, "Hold that for me, will ya? Thanks." With her hands now free, she threw her arms around Josh's neck and felt him wrap his arms around her back. "I can't believe you're here," she gushed.

"I know," Josh replied, releasing her from his grasp. "When I invited you to this party and you e-mailed me back saying you couldn't come because you had to work, I just assumed—"

"Yeah, I can't believe we couldn't figure out we both referring to the same party." Lisa shook her head in disbelief and rolled her eyes. "I couldn't come because I had to waitress a party…you were going to be at a party where there would be waitresses… We're such morons."

"Hey, speak for yourself, Sherborne."

"Oh, yeah, Lyman? Well, I'm not the one who took five years to remember who _you_ are."

The good-natured insults rolled off their tongues as if they hadn't spent the past seven years mainly conversing only through letters and e-mail messages. Taking a moment to examine each other, Josh marveled at how much Lisa had grown up. She was older now (obviously) and taller and seemed more sophisticated than he remembered her with her blonde hair piled on top of her head and a thin silver chain encircling her slender neck. "God, Lis," he muttered, still partially in shock, "I can't get over how different you look now."

"It's been over seven years, Josh. Did you think I'd remain seventeen forever?"

"Could you not be a smart-ass for, like, a second?"

"Well, could you not be a dolt for, like, a second?"

They glared at each other and then burst out laughing. "We _are_ morons," Lisa moaned.

"Definitely."

"So, tell me, what's up with this promotion of yours? They still going to let you run the country or have they finally come to their senses?"

Smiling wryly, Josh replied, "I'll probably take over the position of floor manager for the Minority Whip in January. Billings took the news of my departure pretty well. He just wants me to stick around long enough to ensure a smooth transition."

"Cool. Nothing like moving on up in the world."

"Without a doubt. Now, how about you? When do you make the move to California?"

"In two days," she announced as her face lit up. "Yesterday was my last day at the paper. This is my last waitressing gig. The movers'll pick up my stuff tomorrow, and then, by this time Saturday, I'll be in Berkeley."

"Ah, Berkeley, the bastion of liberalism. You're finally going to make it there after all, huh?"

"Yep. Took a little longer than I thought it would, but it'll be where I call home for awhile."

"And you're going for a Master's in Journalism because…?"

Lisa's face clouded over as she crossed her arms and groaned. "Please don't start this again, Josh."

"Start what?" he squawked, pleading innocence. "I'm not starting anything. I'm just still curious as to why you feel like you need a Master's in Journalism in order to become a full-fledged journalist. Didn't working at a newspaper for two years make you a journalist?"

"No, spending two years at the _Cambridge Chronicle_ only succeeded in making me a very bitter low-end-on-the-totem-pole employee."

"Well, you know, I've got to be honest and say that it seems like you're—"

"Uh, guys?" the young man holding Lisa's tray tentatively interjected. "I hate to interrupt this reunion, but there isn't a really comfortable way to hold this tray and my arms are beginning to hurt."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry about that." Lisa relieved the young man of the tray and watched as he shook out his aching arms. Curtsying, she held out the tray before her and, with a British accent, offered, "Champagne, sir?"

He smiled and accepted the proffered flute. "Thanks. It's a lot easier to hold the glass this way."

Josh watched Lisa giggle in response and then narrowed his eyes. Lisa shot him a pointed look that asked him to introduce her to his friend, but he chose to ignore it. When it become apparent to her that no introductions were going to be made – at least not by Josh – she shifted her gaze back to the handsome young man in front of her and held out her hand. "Since Josh has reverted back to believing he was raised in a barn, I guess we'll have to introduce ourselves to each other. I'm Lisa. Lisa Sherborne."

"Um, Sam…Seaborn," he nervously stammered as he shook Lisa's hand. "This is the, uh, first time I've met someone whose last name sounds so much like mine."

"Which is reason enough for why you two should never, _ever_ pair up for anything," Josh adamantly stressed.

Both Lisa and Sam turned to stare at Josh quixotically while Sam remarked, "So, _you're_ Josh's e-mail buddy."

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's me."

"You should see the way he curses his computer every time he gets a message from you. There's a wager going around the office as to who'll be the first to turn Josh insane: you or the House Republicans."

Lisa laughed and gazed at Sam. His wavy brown hair was in desperate need of a haircut and his blue eyes looked tired, but she liked his kind smile and boyish charm. "You two work together? Does that mean you're like Josh? A man on a mission to rule the world?"

"Well, if you're asking if I'm into politics, then the answer's no. I'm a lawyer, or, at least, that's what I hope to be. I just finished my first year in law school. I'm only working in Billings's office for the summer. I'll be back at Duke in a month."

"I didn't think people could do three-month stints as a congressional aide."

"You can if you're me."

Lisa snorted and mumbled, "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Sam chuckled and puffed out his chest before admitting, "You usually can't. It just happens that I worked for a year as an aide before I headed off to law school. I apparently made a good impression because when I asked to come back for the summer, the higher-ups said sure. Anyway, not to change the subject or anything, but I couldn't help overhearing you tell Josh that you're moving to Berkeley. I'm actually flying out to Los Angeles next week to visit my parents and then I was planning on driving up to San Francisco to visit some friends. When I'm in the Bay Area, I could stop by your new apartment and help you get settled in. But only if you want my help, of course," he quickly added.

"Wow, that's, um…that's really nice of you to offer. I don't know if my stuff will have reached Berkeley by next week, but if it does, I'd love your help and company. Why don't I— Oh, God. There's Ms. Murphy and she's glaring at me. Crap. I better go before she sics her dogs on me." As Lisa began walking away, she called out, "It was nice meeting you, Sam. Josh, come find me and say good-bye before you leave, okay?"

Sam waved to the departing figure and smiled. "That was fun, getting to meet her like that. She's nice." When Josh didn't respond, Sam turned his head and saw his friend glowering at him. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Were you just hitting on Lisa?" Josh asked through clenched teeth.

"What? No!"

"Then what was all that stuff about going to her place in Berkeley and helping her get 'settled in'?"

"I was being nice! I thought offering to help her move was the gentlemanly thing to do since she's a friend of yours and I'm going to be in her neighborhood."

"Stay away from her, Sam."

"Josh, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding, Sam. Stay away from her."

"Who ever said I wanted to be _close_ to her?"

"She's young…she's naïve…"

"Isn't she the same age as me?"

"Not the point. I know how you and your Hollywood good looks can—"

"Me and my _what_?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Sam, but I will if I have to."

As Josh walked away in search of some food, Sam chased after him crying, "Have you lost your mind? Josh?"

*~*

"See," Sam insisted as he spooned his sauce over two plates piled high with noodles, "Josh has always liked you more than he liked me. He was even willing to beat me up."

"That was then and this is now," Lisa retorted flatly, her voice echoing slightly because she was rummaging through a drawer for a corkscrew.

"You're being silly."

"Oh, am I? Josh visited _you_ today, Sam. Not me, you."

"Maybe he just happened to be in my neck of the woods, so it was easier for him to stop by and say hi to me."

"Your office is two blocks from mine."

"Okay. Then maybe he was planning on seeing you, too, but ran out of time."

"Or maybe he hates me now and despises the fact that we're together."

"He doesn't hate you, Lis."

"Did you tell him about our engagement?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He was…happy for us."

"Really? Did he actually say that?"

"Not in those exact words, but…"

"I rest my case." Lisa deftly opened the bottle of red wine Sam had set aside for them and proceeded to pour out two generous servings.

"Lisa, I don't know what's going on with you and Josh, but I really wish—"

"Could we not talk about Josh? Please?" She took a seat across from Sam at their kitchen table and handed him one of the glasses of wine. "It's bringing me down."

"Okay," he conceded reluctantly. He stared into the flickering flame of the candle she had lit and placed in the middle of the table. With the overhead lights turned down low, the candle light only made his fiancée look more beautiful, if that was even possible. Holding up his glass, he proposed, "Let's make a toast."

"To?"

"How about fate? For bringing us together."

Lisa snorted and covered her smirk with a hand. "Fate? Isn't that a little cheesy?"

"Okay, then. What do _you_ suggest?"

"How about…luck? Lots and lots of it."

"Gee, cynical much, hon?"

"Fine. Then let's toast to…September."

Sam grinned and nodded his appreciation for the suggestion. "To September."

All seemed right in their little world as they clinked glasses. They were in love. They were engaged. And they would live happily ever after.


	3. Part Three: Running Down a Dream

**__**

Part Three: Running Down a Dream

The kitchen cupboards were bare, the living room was full of moving boxes, and the 33-year-old Chief of Staff for Congressman Brennan sat on the bedroom floor drinking a beer and pawing through the contents of an open box. Holding up what appeared to be a VCR tape in its sleeve, he turned it over in his hands and squinted at the writing on the back of the sleeve before shouting, "You bought a copy of 'Top Gun'?"

In the kitchen, Lisa set down the plate she had been holding and pursed her lips. "Josh, are you here to help me unpack or to critique my taste in movies?"

"I can't do both?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she moaned, "That's it. I'm going to kill him. He's driving me crazy."

Sympathetic laughter filled the room as Sam walked in with another box in his arms. "Take a deep breath, Lis," he advised. "You're just stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed! There's no way we're going to finish unpacking everything by the end of today."

"So we'll finish unpacking tomorrow," Sam stated with a shrug.

"But I'm suppose to work on my article tomorrow."

"All right. Then _I'll_ unpack tomorrow while _you_ write. Don't worry. Everything'll work out."

Lisa sighed and covered her face with her hands. "What have I gotten myself into?" she mumbled in anguish.

Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead moved over to behind Lisa and wrapped his arms around her. "Smile, honey," he urged as he nuzzled her neck. "You've got a great new job, a great new apartment, and, if I do say so myself, a great boyfriend."

Chuckling, she placed her hands on top of his and leaned into his chest. This was what she loved most about being with him: feeling safe and protected against her own personal demons. "Sam, I lov—"

"You also own 'Steel Magnolias'?" Josh yelled incredulously from the bedroom.

Even though the romantic mood was now shattered, Lisa began laughing. "I doubt this was what Josh had in mind when he decided to come visit you this weekend."

"Us."

"What?"

"He came to visit both of us, Lisa. He just happens to be staying with me."

"No, Sam, he happens to be staying with you because he's here to visit _you_. I don't mind that you're the one he wants to see and hang out with. Josh and I have never really had a friendship that was based on a need to see each other."

"Well, he's going to have to get used to the concept of seeing you whenever he comes to visit me."

Lisa turned herself around in Sam's embrace and looked him in the eyes. "Do you think we should tell him about us?"

"Yeah, I think we should. And I honestly doubt it's going to come as a surprise to him. He knows we hang out with each other."

"Yeah, but he thinks we do that in the platonic sense. I think he'd be shocked to learn we've been dating for almost a year. And I don't think he'd be too happy about it, either."

"Why? We're two of his closest friends. Why wouldn't he be happy for us?"

"I don't know. It's just a feeling I have. Maybe it's woman's intuition."

"Or maybe it's you being paranoid. Anyway, he's bound to find out sooner or later, especially after I move in here with you when the lease on my apartment ends in two months."

"I know, but…couldn't we make it later than sooner?"

"What are you so afraid of?" Sam asked seriously as he studied her face. "Are you ashamed to be with me or something?"

"What? No." She reached up and brushed away some hair that had fallen over his forehead before cupping his face with her hands. "One of the things I'm most proud of is us." Rubbing her right thumb over his left cheek, Lisa rose up on her toes and leaned in for a kiss.

All of her worries, fears, and insecurities slipped to the far crevices of her mind as she felt Sam's lips against hers. His touch was light at first, almost as if he was still harboring doubts about whether she wanted to be with him. But as she moved her hands behind his head and pulled him closer to her, the kiss intensified.

"Hey, Lisa, you never told me that you hav…" Josh's sentence trailed off unfinished as he first saw his friends in a full-on embrace and then saw them fly out of each other's arms. With four feet of empty space now between then, Sam smoothed out the hair at the back of his head, Lisa straightened her T-shirt, and they both avoided looking at Josh. In order to lighten the awkward situation, Josh quipped, "Quick, someone hand me a couple forks so I can stab my eyes out with 'em." No one laughed.

"Josh, we can explain," Sam began.

"I know I don't get out much these days, but, really, no explanation is needed for what I just saw."

"We were going to tell you," Lisa said meekly.

Josh looked from Sam to Lisa and then back to Sam. They both looked so distraught that he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from creeping upwards. "God, guys, could you not look like you're attending my funeral?"

"You're not mad?" Sam asked.

"Well, I'm a little annoyed that neither one of you bothered to tell me, but no, I'm not mad. How long how two been…doing whatever you've been doing?"

"Almost ten months," Lisa reluctantly confessed.

"Ten months?!" Josh's mouth fell open in shock, but he quickly recovered and closed it. "Well, that's…that's great. Congratulations. I'm glad you two found each other."

"Really?" Lisa's eyebrows flew upwards in surprise.

"Yes, really." Josh looked down at the CD jewel case in his right hand and remembered why he had wandered into the kitchen in the first place. Holding up the jewel case, he said, "Anyway, I came in here to tell you that I didn't know you had this."

Lisa glanced at the CD and nodded. "Yeah, I went out and bought a copy after you told me that Bach's 'Magnificat' was one of Joanie's favorites."

"Hmm," he murmured in response. He deposited the CD onto the counter and walked over to the refrigerator. Opening it and peering inside, he lightly asked, "So, Lisa, when are you going to get yourself a real job?"

Lisa, who'd been exchanging looks of relief with Sam, frowned at Josh's question. She wasn't bothered by the question itself since Josh had been teasing her about working at _Vanity Fair_ ever since she'd started there as a part-time staff reporter a year ago. But his tone of voice was different from what it had been like when he had poked fun at her in the past. She couldn't quite put her finger on what the difference was, but she was certain that her relationship with Josh had just changed.

"I _do_ have a real job," she asserted with a chuckle, trying to hide her uneasiness. "_Vanity Fair_ is a serious magazine."

"It is humanly impossible for any magazine that has the word 'vanity' in its name to be taken seriously."

Lisa shot Josh a sideways glance as a feeling of dread crept over her. How could he—

"Lisa? You there?"

Lisa blinked and was mildly surprised to find herself staring at her computer screen. How long had she been daydreaming? Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Gretchen, one of her co-workers, staring at her. "Hey, Gretch," she mumbled.

"Where've you been?" Gretchen asked as she took a seat on the corner of Lisa's desk. "I've been trying to get your attention for, like, ever."

"I was, uh…thinking."

"About your sweetie?"

"What?" Lisa seemed to be having difficulty getting all of her mind away from the past and back to the present. "No. I wasn't thinking about Sam. A friend of his – of _ours_, actually – paid him a visit yesterday and I…he's been plaguing me ever since I found out."

Gretchen nodded her head sympathetically. "A bad apple, huh? Yeah, Bobby's got a few of those. One of them is an old frat brother of his and the last time he stopped by for a visit, I ended up having to bail both him _and_ Bobby out of jail at four in the morning."

"No, Josh isn't like that. He's a good guy."

"Then what's the problem? Wait. You don't have a thing for him, do you?"

"What?! Ew. God, no." Lisa cringed and made a face.

"Well, then as much as I'd love to continue playing Dr. Ruth, we've got a staff meeting to get to. That's what I came here to tell you."

"Oh, that's right. Thanks for the reminder."

"Word has it that some very important people were quite impressed with that exclusive one-on-one interview you scored with Weinstein at last month's Miramax party."

"Eh, that was just luck on my part," Lisa dismissed with a wave of her hand as she fumbled through the papers on her desk for a notepad. "If he hadn't happened to be in a very good mood when I cornered him, then I would've been toast." 

"Well, I want some luck like yours then because your luck has apparently held out long enough for you to snag that open Associate Features Editor position."

"Are you serious?" Lisa gasped.

"That's what's been floating around the office all day."

"Huh." Lisa leaned back her chair and contemplated what it would mean for her if the rumor did indeed turn out to be true.

"C'mon. Let's get to the conference room and grab some choice seats. You'll want to be clearly visible to everyone when the announcement's made."

*~*

"Sam?" Lisa called out as she closed the door behind her. Without bothering to remove her coat, she bypassed the living room and continued walking further into their apartment. "You're never going to believe what happened to me today. We had an all-hands staff meeting with the editors and everyone and they announced that— Josh. Hey." She froze in the entranceway to the kitchen and stared at Josh sitting at the table with a bowl of pasta and an open newspaper in front of him.

He looked up from the paper and gave a short wave. "Hey yourself, Sherborne," he greeted amicably.

"I, uh…" Josh's unexpected appearance in her apartment left her struggling for words. "How are you? Sam, he…he told me yesterday about how you dropped by his office on your way to…"

"New Hampshire."

"Right. New Hampshire. He didn't mention anything about you coming back through the city, though."

"Yeah, that's 'cause I hadn't planned to. But I saw something amazing in New Hampshire and just had to come back to tell Sam about it."

"What did you see?"

"The future."

Lisa cocked an eyebrow in skepticism at Josh's vagueness. "O-kay. Is Sam here?"

"Yeah. He's in the bedroom, I think."

"Great. Well, I'm gonna go talk to him and then I'll come back out here and the three of us can catch up, okay?"

"'Kay. Oh, hey, did ya know Sam could cook?" Josh asked as he twisted another mouthful of noodles around his fork. "He told me he made this and I've gotta say that it's fabulous."

Feeling as if she'd entered some alternative universe in which Josh didn't try to tease or insult her, Lisa gave him a lopsided smile and replied, "I'll tell him that." She hurried to the bedroom and walked in on Sam packing a suitcase. Standing in front of the doorway, she watched in bewilderment as he picked through the contents of a drawer in their dresser. "Hi, honey," she eventually stated monotonously. "I'm home."

Sam looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Hey."

"Are you aware that Josh is sitting in our kitchen right now?"

"Yeah. He said he was hungry, so I gave him the leftover pasta from last night to eat."

"I know. I saw him eating it and – not that it matters – he really seems to like it." As she paused for a second to compose what she wanted to say next, Sam spun around to face her.

Holding a charcoal gray, V-neck sweater in front of his chest, he asked, "Do you remember if I've ever wore this? It's a nice sweater."

"It's cashmere."

"Yeah, I know, and that's probably why it's such a nice sweater. I just can't remember if I was saving to wear it for a special occasion or if I—"

"I think you just haven't gotten around to wearing it," Lisa interrupted impatiently. Her fiancé was obviously packing for a trip she knew nothing about and yet he wanted to talk about sweaters? "Sam, are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," he declared enthusiastically. "Washington."

"State?"

"Capital." Tossing the sweater onto their bed, Sam walked over to Lisa and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Lisa, I'm going back to D.C. with Josh tonight."

A million curses and questions ran through her mind as she processed this declaration, but all Lisa could manage to say was "What?"

"I know this all seems like it coming out of nowhere, but Josh traveled to Nashua, New Hampshire yesterday because a friend of his father asked him to go hear this guy – Jed Bartlet – speak at a town hall meeting. Josh was blown away by this guy."

"Who?" Lisa asked, her face contorted into a mask of confusion. "Jed Bartlet? I— Who is he? I've never heard of him before."

"He's a Nobel Prize winner for Economics, a two-term House Representative for New Hampshire, and the current governor of New Hampshire. But none of that matters. What matters is that Bartlet is going to try and win the Democratic nomination for President and Josh is going to help him do that and he wants me to help as well."

"Josh wants you to help him help someone I've never heard of to become elected President of the United States?" Lisa fixed Sam with an unimpressed stare.

"Yes!" he cried with gusto.

After lifting his hands off of her shoulders, Lisa walked over to the bed and sat beside the open suitcase, which, she noticed, was already half full. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt rubbery, and her eyes were growing more and more moist by the second. This is why you don't build a house out of sticks, she reprimanded herself as she heaved a sigh. Looking down at her lap, she softly asked, "Sam, what's going on?"

He caught the hint of desperation that had entered her voice and rushed to squat in front of her. "Lisa, I—"

"Are you leaving me?" She'd meant to ask the question in a clear and composed manner, but it instead came out as a high-pitched screech. She didn't even recognize the voice as her own.

"No," Sam insisted firmly, taking her hands in his own.

"Then what's going on? Because it seems like you're leaving me."

"Josh believes Jed Bartlet is the real thing. The _real thing_, honey. Do you remember how I always used to talk about that? About how it was my dream to have a hand in putting a real man with real convictions and real ideas into the Oval Office?"

"I remember you telling me that that's Josh's dream," she muttered.

Confused by why it sounded like Lisa was accusing him of having the same dream as Josh, Sam stammered, "Well, uh, yeah…he…he does, but…that's not why I'm—"

"So, you're what?" she cut in. "Going to go join Bartlet's campaign?"

"Yes."

"What about your job?"

"I quit."

"You what?"

"I quit. Walked out of a meeting with Cameron today. I don't belong at Gage Whitney, Lis. I'm not sure I ever did."

"Okay. Then what about us?" She had to bite her lower lip and focus her gaze on the wall behind Sam in order to hold herself together.

"What _about_ us?"

Surprised by his utter lack of concern for their relationship and what his leaving would do to it, Lisa snapped, "In case you've already forgotten, Sam, I live here in New York. You live here with me. Now, all of a sudden, you're telling me that you're leaving. Tonight. Excuse me if I'm a little curious as to where that exactly leaves us."

Finally grasping what her concern was, Sam stood up from his crouch and smiled down at her. "It leaves us planning a move."

"A move."

"Yeah. Lisa, I want you to come with me. I know you can't quit your job as abruptly as I did, so I'll go on ahead and scope out some places for us in D.C. and New Hampshire, and after you've given the magazine a decent amount of time to find someone to replace you, you can come join me and we'll—"

"I'm not quitting my job."

Sam turned to look at her, his eyes wide and uncertain. For the first time since Lisa had entered the room, the future seemed less stable to him. "You're not…?"

"I'm not going to quit my job," she reiterated. "I can't. I…I got promoted today."

"You did?" For a moment, Sam's impending departure was forgotten as he pulled Lisa up and swung her around in a circle, hugging her the entire time. "That's…that's so great!"

"Yeah," she replied, trying to force herself to smile even though all she wanted to do was cry. "You're looking at the newest Associate Features Editor for _Vanity Fair_. I still get to write articles, but I'll have more say in what I want to write about and I'll have more responsibilities and…the next step up for me would be to become a full-time editor. That's _my_ dream, Sam. It's what I've been working towards all these years and it's what I want. That's why I can't quit."

Stunned by her proclamation, he released her from his arms and turned his back to her. "You can't or you won't?"

"That's not fair."

"Well, I'm sorry if it's not fair, Lisa, but I—"

"Hey, guys, the night's still young. Wanna go out and get some drinks to celebrate the…" Josh's sentence trailed off as he walked into the room and immediately sensed the tension in the air. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam brightly claimed. "Everything's great. I've still, um…I still have a lot of packing to do, so why don't you go out, buy us some beers, and bring them back here for us to celebrate with. There's a small convenience store about a block and a half north of us. Here."

He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his pants, but Josh waved him off. "Don't worry about. I've got it."

Lisa and Sam waited until they heard their front door open and close before choosing to resume their conversation. It was Sam who spoke first. "You said you'd support me."

"What?" Lisa rubbed her forehead and tried to slow the beating of her heart. How loud was it beating? Could he hear it? Could he tell how scared she was of losing him?

"Last night, you looked me in the eyes and told me that if I ever wanted to walk away from something, you'd support me."

"I didn't mean I'd support you walking away from me!"

"Wha? No! I— I don't want to walk away from _you_, Lisa. I only want to walk away from New York. You're just not letting me do that."

"Sam, it's not—"

"I still want to marry you."

Lisa bit her lower lip and then chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't have to say that."

"It's the truth."

"I'm not calling you a liar, Sam. It's just… I don't know much about campaigns and what goes on during them, but the one thing I do know is that they involve lots of traveling. How can you say you want to marry me when you don't even know where you're going to be – either mentally or physically – in September?"

He opened his mouth to protest, to insist that his feelings for her would never change and that, regardless of far he had to travel, come September 22nd, he'd be there at the alter, waiting to marry her. But he closed his mouth when he realized that, despite how much he loved her now, a lot of things _could_ happen in eleven months. To both of them. "Where do we go from here then?"

"We could…" Lisa hesitated as a thousand different scenarios ran through her mind. They could run away to Las Vegas, get married in a chapel that has some sort of reference to Elvis in its name, and start a whole new life for themselves somewhere new. They could attempt a long distance relationship that would be full of steamy late night phone calls and e-mails that go on forever. They could go their separate ways and never see each other again. "You could stay here with me."

Sam sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Lisa, I can't—"

"Wait. Hear me out," she begged, reaching out for his hand. "If you don't want to practice corporate law anymore, then don't. If you want to become involved in politics and campaigns, then do. I'm sure there's a city or state campaign in New York that would love your help. Just…stay with me. Please."

He felt her fingers wrap around his and exhaled slowly. "I can't. I'm sorry. Josh already—"

"Josh?!" Lisa shouted in outrage, flinging away his hand. "God, I _knew_ Josh was the one behind all this. So what's the deal? He snaps his fingers and you automatically come running?"

"My decision has nothing to do with Josh."

"Like hell it doesn't," she snapped. "I always knew this was going to happen. From the moment I first met you at that Democratic fundraiser in Cambridge, I knew that Josh had you wrapped around his little finger and that you'd do anything he asked of you. But as the years passed and you kept sticking by me and Josh became this…guy from our past, I allowed myself to believe that maybe – just maybe – his hold on you was wavering, that you were finally putting me before him. I can't believe how wrong I was."

"Lisa," Sam said sharply as he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to face him, "my decision has _nothing_ to do with Josh. I wish I could stay here and marry you and be an adoring husband to you. But I can't. I love you, but…you're not enough."

Her heart leapt into her throat, which left her gasping for air. "Wow. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse," she muttered as her eyes quickly filled with tears.

"Lis , it's not _you_. It's… We're different," he stated as he tried to explain himself. "I…I'm a guy who couldn't tell you for the life of him what the latest trends are or where anyone who's anyone hangs out because I could care less about those things. I don't get along with your friends or your co-workers, and I know they think I'm this weird, dorky lawyer who lucked out by landing you."

"I don't care what my friends think about you. And I've never asked you to be anyone other than who you are."

"I know, but… You're a smart, sophisticated, up-and-coming journalist, and you deserve to have a boyfriend who can hold court with you at all those parties you go to. I stick out at those parties like a sore thumb. I get in there and immediately want to know when I can leave. I don't think I can go to any more of those parties."

"Then don't go!" Lisa shrieked as she allowed anger to overtake her sorrow. "I've never forced you to come with me. I've never even _asked_ you – not once – to come with me. And you never said anything about notwanting to go to them. As a matter of fact, you've always been the one who _insisted_ on accompanying me."

"Because I knew that if I didn't, I'd never get a chance to see you! You're always at a party of some sort and I know going to them is part of your job but I—"

"Oh, don't turn around and try to pin this on me! I can remember plenty of nights when I came home to an empty apartment, ate dinner alone, and then went to bed alone. We've _both_ been guilty of putting our jobs before this relationship." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "God, Sam, I feel like I don't know you anymore. When I look at you, it's like I'm seeing a side of you I've never seen before."

"Well, that's funny," he countered in a low, harsh voice, "because when I look at you, you're still the same person I've been seeing all these years."

Lisa froze as her mind processed the insult. If Sam hadn't already broken her heart minutes earlier, it would now be lying in a million shattered pieces at her feet.

Realizing he'd said too much, Sam attempted to take back his biting words. "Lis, I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," she responded emotionlessly. "I know you. You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it."

After several seconds of silence had passed, Lisa looked up to find Sam watching her. Locking eyes with him, she asked, "If I walk out of this apartment and return an hour later, would I find you waiting here for me?"

Sam didn't break the gaze, but he also didn't respond. Suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the apartment, Lisa pulled her coat tighter around her and moved towards the door. "That's what I thought," she murmured as she stepped past him.

A look of alarm crept over his face. "Wait, that's it?" he demanded in disbelief. "You're just going to walk away from me?"

Lisa stopped under the doorway and mournfully said, "No, Sam, I'm not, because I can't walk away from someone who was never really here to begin with."

She walked the rest of the distance to the front door alone and without any further interruptions. As she stood in the dimly lit hallway and closed the front door behind her, she allowed her hand to linger on the knob. She was a fiercely independent, '90s woman who didn't need a man to feel complete, she told herself, but not even that rhetoric stopped her from wishing, C'mon, Sam. Come after me. Don't let me go.

But her prayers fell on deaf ears and the door remained closed. So, with one last look at the future that might have been, she released her hold on the knob and headed for the elevator.

*~*

Josh felt great and he didn't care who knew it. With a six-pack of Coronas in his right hand and a bagged bottle of Wyder's Pear Cider in his left hand (which was for Lisa, who, he knew, loved this particular brand's cider), he hummed a tune as he strolled up the street back to Sam and Lisa's apartment. He wasn't quite sure what song he was humming, but he knew it'd been playing inside the small convenience store he'd bought the alcohol from and that was how it had gotten stuck in his head.

"Hmm-hmmmm-mm-mmm-mm-mmm," he continued humming softly. He saw the entranceway to the apartment building and turned towards it. Carefully depositing the six-pack onto the ground, he stood in front of the intercom and stared at the keypad as he tried to remember their phone number. He'd never made it a point to commit the number to his memory because he'd programmed it into his cell phone when Sam had moved in with Lisa. He wondered if he could still be buzzed in if he called them up on his phone rather than the intercom.

"Josh."

It sounded like the voice came from behind him, but when he turned and looked over his shoulder, all he could see was darkness. Snapping his head forward, his heart quickened in pace, his palms began to sweat, and every muscle in his body tightened. Oh, this is ridiculous, he chastised himself seconds later. You'd think I've never been outside in the dark by myself before. He was reaching inside of his raincoat for his cell phone when he was beckoned once more.

"Josh."

His arm dropped back down to his side and his eyes grew large with fear. Oh, God, the voice sounded pissed now. Was someone stalking him? Before his imagination had a chance to run away from him, he heard, "Josh, I'm down here."

Squinting into the darkness, he was finally able to make out Lisa sitting on the curb in front of the building. She had her ankle-length, black overcoat pulled tightly around her, which was why he hadn't initially seen her sitting there. He picked up the beer and made his way over to her. "I wasn't scared," he declared a little too vehemently to be completely believed. "I was just playing around."

"What?"

"Nothing." He stood next to Lisa's prone figure and looked down at her. Her knees were pulled tight against her chest and she had her arms wrapped around them. "What are you doing out here? Were you waiting for me? You didn't have to do that. I could've just called you guys and gotten buzzed up like everyone else."

Ignoring his comments and keeping her eyes staring straight ahead, she asked in a dull voice, "When does your plane leave for Washington tonight?"

"I'm taking the train back. Public servitude doesn't exactly pay the big bucks."

Choosing to ignore his comments once again, she prompted, "And the train leaves at…?"

"10:30."

"You should probably call and make sure there's a seat available for Sam. I doubt he's remembered to make a reservation for himself."

Furrowing his brows, Josh stated, "It's all taken of. Sam and I called the station this afternoon and got him booked on the train."

"Oh. Good."

He took a long, hard look at the top of her head before taking a seat next to her on the sidewalk. "Lisa, is everything… I mean, did you guys just—"

"It's over," she asserted flatly.

"What do you mean 'it's over'?" he demanded, sounding somewhat livid.

"I mean just that. It's over. Sam and I are no longer together."

"Are you out of your mind? How could you make such a decision?"

"It wasn't exactly a unilateral decision on my part, Josh," Lisa retorted with a tinge of hostility in her voice. "Why are you getting so upset, anyway? Sam's going to be leaving with _you_ tonight. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No! Wait, okay, yeah, I…I guess that is what I wanted, but…I never wanted the two of you to break up. What happened? Sam told me that he wanted you to come along with us. Didn't he tell you that?"

"Yeah, he told me. But my home is here, in New York. I can't just pack up and leave it."

"Why not? The man who you claim to love tells you that he wants you to come with him on a trip and yet you can't bring yourself to do it? Don't you realize that your place is with him?"

Lisa turned her head to her right and rolled her eyes as she gawked at Josh. "I can't believe you just said that. Do you even realize what you're doing when you shove your foot into your mouth like that? Does it not hurt?"

"What?"

"In your sexist, little mind, Josh, did it ever occur to you that maybe Sam's place is here with me, and not the other way around?" Tears began collecting in her eyes again as she exhaled slowly. "I came home to find him packing. Without waiting to discuss it with me, to see what my thoughts on it would be, he went ahead and started packing. That tells me that, regardless of how I felt or whether I would agree to join him on the campaign trail, he'd already made up his mind to go."

Josh stared down at his hands, which were growing colder by the second. "I don't think he ever expected you not to want to join us."

"No, he knew I wouldn't leave here. Maybe he didn't know it consciously, but a part of him knew."

Josh mulled over all this information before saying, "Okay, fine. Maybe Sam had already decided to come with me regardless of where you stood on the matter, but you make it sound like the ball was never in your court and that's not true. If you two are truly as committed as you say you are, then it doesn't matter whether—"

"Oh my God," Lisa interrupted brusquely. "Are you trying to give me relationship advice? You, Josh Lyman, who has never, _ever_ had a relationship that lasted more than two weeks, is actually trying to give me relationship advice?"

"Hey, Mandy and I have been—"

"Oh, _please_. What you and Mandy have is not a relationship, but a sick and twisted game you guys engage in so you can revel in the make-up sex."

"Yeah? Well, that's interesting because, between you and Sam and me and Mandy, guess which couple will be campaigning together and which couple will fall apart? Oh, wait, that's right. No guessing's needed because you're sitting out here while Sam's in there packing up his stuff. Maybe that's all for the best, though, because I always knew you'd break his heart. I'm glad it's happening now rather than after you sunk your claws in him any further and got him to marry you."

The words were meant to be hurtful and they succeeded in accomplishing that goal. Lisa squeezed her eyes together and drew a shallow breath into her body. Her voice was weak and wobbly when she finally spoke again. "Tell me something, Josh. When did you decide you no longer wanted me as a friend?"

Josh didn't immediately respond because he had been engaging in an internal celebration over having knocked Lisa down a peg. Who did she think she was to mock whatever he and Mandy had together? Perhaps it wasn't completely accurate to call what they shared a 'relationship,' but still. However, when he finally processed Lisa's question, his mouth fell open and all the cheers he'd been hearing in his head dissipated. "What? I never—"

"Yeah, you did," she insisted as she kept her eyes averted from his. "And you don't have to figure out when you made that decision because I already know. From the second you stepped into the kitchen and saw me and Sam kissing, things between us changed. I sensed it then, but it wasn't until later that I truly understood what was going on."

"Lisa, I swear, I never—"

"For the past two years, Josh, you've gone out of your way to tear me down in front of Sam. You've ridiculed everything from my job to what fruits I like to eat. I don't think I've really changed that much over the years, but once you found out about me and Sam, I suddenly became too stupid, too vain, too egotistical, too shallow, too—"

"Lisa!" he yelped, his voice going up two octaves. "I wasn't trying to be mean when I said those things. That's just how…that's how we've always communicated, remember? The teasing and good-natured insults and sarcastic comebacks? They were only jokes."

"Yeah, of the not-so-kind, not-so-funny variety."

Long seconds of silence followed as Josh stared out into the darkness and began to wonder if Lisa had been right. Had he purposely set out to break up her and Sam? He was sure he had never intentionally set out to do that, but…he _had_ asked Sam to quit his job at Dewey Ballantine and join him at Brennan's office instead. And he _had_ asked Sam to quit his job at Gage Whitney so that he could join him at Hoynes's campaign. And he _had_ been unusually cruel in his comments to Lisa during the past couple years. But how could it be true? Lisa was like a sister to him and Sam…well, Sam was one of his closest friends. He didn't make and keep friends very easily and he had a feeling that was because he was so confident in himself that many felt threatened. But Sam never ran away. He just always laughed and listened and stuck around. That's probably why a lot of people would say Sam was his best friend. Hold on. Was that it? Had he been subconsciously trying to sabotage Lisa and Sam's relationship because he hadn't wanted to lose his best friend? Before he had a chance to conduct a thorough exploration of this possibility, his thoughts were interrupted by Lisa.

"Here," she said as she dropped a key chain with two keys attached to it into his lap. "You can get back into the building and apartment by using those. Have Sam leave his set of keys on the kitchen table. Use this set to lock the door behind you and then slide them under the door. I'm going to go for a walk, a long one. Please try to be gone by the time I get back."

It had taken everything within Lisa to not sound bitter as she relayed these instructions to Josh, and, as she waited for him to leave, she was glad that her parting words to him (and, by extension, to Sam) had been civil. But her joy quickly vanished as Josh just continued sitting beside her on the curb. What are you doing, she screamed at him silently. She was positive he chose to remain outside with her because he was gloating and he wanted her to know he was gloating. She tried to be the bigger person and not say anything, but it eventually became too much for her to take. "What are you still doing here, Josh?" she snapped. "You won. Go and claim your prize."

But it was never about winning, he replied in his head. It was just about holding on to what I had. He wanted to apologize or, at the very least, to suggest she go back upstairs and try to make-up with Sam. But when he finally did open up his mouth to speak again, those weren't the words that came out. "Do you love him, Lisa? Did you ever?"

She shot to her feet in outrage. "Go to hell, Josh," she spat. "Go to fucking hell." She turned to flee the scene before she lost the ability to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes, but then turned back around. "When you…when you get on that train tonight and start traveling back to Washington, I want you to remember one thing. Remember that you're not only taking my boyfriend with you, but also my best friend."

Josh watched her disappear into the darkness of the night and sighed. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to question her love for Sam. He hadn't meant to imply she was heartless, but then he'd opened his mouth and… Shaking his head, he pocketed the keys Lisa had given him and rose to his feet. Oh, well. All he could do now was help Sam finish packing and convince him that the future would hold bigger and better things. As he bent over to pick up the six-pack of beer that was still on the ground, something caught his eye. Lowering himself into a crouch, Josh took a closer look and realized that, where Lisa had once sat, now resided a moderate-sized, square-cut diamond on a band of gold.


	4. Part Four: Epilogue

**__**

Part Four: Epilogue

"Why didn't we get married?"

Lisa looks up from the photo she's been studying and cocks an eyebrow. Gee, Sam, I don't know, she responds sarcastically in her head. Could it have had something to do with Josh or your dream about the 'real thing'? Or maybe it was that whole 'You love me, but I'm not enough' argument? Placing the picture frame back on the shelf, she asks, "Why do you think?"

He doesn't hesitate with his answer. "'Cause I don't know what the cool restaurant is and I don't care. When I get hungry, I want to eat. And I don't know where the Tommy Hilfiger party is and I don't know what to do when I get there."

You're full of crap, she thinks, and then proceeds to tell him so.

"I was never cool enough for you," he continues to argue.

"You're full of crap," she repeats, taking a step towards him, "and you think too little of me. Furthermore, I didn't leave you, you left me. And you did it to do this. And the reason you're pissy is because I'm here looking at you and writing about you and you're wondering if I'm going to think you've been doing anything at all."

"Often it's not clear to me whether or not I have." Sam's face falls and he now looks extremely tired, almost beaten.

Lisa gazes at him and her heart automatically aches for him. She wants so much to be angry with him, to find in his every word and gesture another reason for why she should consider herself lucky that they had broken up when they did. And yet there he is, looking so lost and helpless that she instead finds herself wanting to go to him and wrap her arms around him and tell him that everything will be okay. Since she can't do any of that, she firmly insists, "You have."

"How would you know?"

"I don't," she reluctantly admits after a slight pause.

He nods and wanders a bit aimlessly around his office. Lisa follows him with her eyes and wishes there were more she could do. "Here's something interesting," Sam declares as he comes to a stop in front of his bookcase. "In 1940, our armed forces weren't among the twelve most formidable in the world, but obviously, we were going to fight a big war. And Roosevelt said the U.S. would produce 50,000 planes in the next four years. Everyone thought it was a joke. And it was, 'cause it turned out we produced 100,000 airplanes. Gave the Air Force an armada that would block the sun."

Lisa's familiar with Sam's tendency of changing subjects abruptly, and is somewhat comforted by the fact that he hasn't lost the habit during the past four years. Smiling encouragingly, she asks, "Do you still have what you wrote that night?"

"About curing cancer?"

"Yeah."

Sam walks behind his desk and brings up the document on his computer screen after a few quick taps on some keys. He begins to turn the screen in her direction, but she shakes her head. "Read it to me?" she requests as she sits down in a chair opposite from him.

He hesitates for a second, uncertain of whether he should risk allowing Lisa back into that private aspect of his life. But, deciding that he's being foolish, he sits down in his chair, repositions his computer in front of him, and reads, "Over the past half century, we've split the atom, we've spliced the gene, and we've roamed Tranquility Base. We've reached for the stars and never have we been closer to having them in our grasp. New science, new technology, is making the difference between life and death, and so we need a national commitment equal to this unparalleled moment of possibility. And so I announce to you tonight that I will bring the full resources of the federal government and the full reach of my office to this fundamental goal: we will cure cancer by the end of this decade."

As Lisa watches Sam read aloud the words she knows he slaved over, she feels a sense of enormous pride swelling within her chest because it's _her_ Sam – Sam circa 1997 – who's sitting across the desk from her. It's the Sam who still believed in the real thing and real convictions and real ideas. The Sam who hadn't yet been forced to compromise on things that mattered to him. The Sam who hadn't had to learn how to settle for winning the battle because winning the war was impossible.

He finishes reading and stares at his screen, looking as if he's forgotten she's in the room with him. Lisa can tell he's sad and that breaks her heart. It's now more than ever that she misses the old Sam. She wonders if he misses him, too.

She knows there's nothing she can do for him – not now, anyway – so she uncrosses her legs and, being careful to keep her voice light and even so as to not tip Sam off to the fact that she knows what he's currently feeling, she says, "That was nice. I'll pass the notes along."

He doesn't acknowledge that he's heard her or that he's aware she's leaving, but Lisa actually prefers this. The last thing she wants or needs right now is another drawn out good-bye. As she walks into the Communications Bullpen and tries to remember where the red-haired assistant said she'd hang her coat, Lisa's blind-sided by Josh.

"Where are you going?" he asks, appearing, seemingly, out of nowhere.

She wants to tell him that it's none of his business (because it really isn't), but instead replies, "Well, you know, I accidentally left my broomstick behind at the hotel, so I figured that I'd—"

"Cut the crap, Lisa. Where are you going? Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"Why do you always have to be so damn— Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Leaving town or leaving the White House only to be back tomorrow morning?"

Forcing herself to bite her tongue, she stiffly replies, "I'm going to fly back to New York tomorrow morning."

"Why? Is the story done?"

"My part of it." Josh is staring at her in confusion and she knows he won't let her leave until she explains herself. "I'm going to pass the story on to someone else. One of my colleagues will show up next week to finish it up."

His face becomes blank for a moment as he thinks about what this all means and is then overtaken by a huge smirk. "This is so like you, Lisa," he scoffs. "I knew this would happen."

His words are harsh and cold and Lisa finds herself glaring at him as her stomach begins to churn. "What are you talking about?" she demands.

"I'm talking about you. I knew you'd show up here, dredge up all these bad memories for Sam, essentially ruin what should be a very happy night for him, and then run away after you've destroyed him all over again. You're like some really bad Roadrunner episode in which Sam's Wile E. Coyote and you're the Roadrunner and you just keep dropping those weights on top of his head over and over and—"

"I'm what?"

"You couldn't have let someone else have this assignment, Lisa? You must have known how hard it would be for Sam to see you again after all this time."

"Yeah, and it's been a complete walk in the park for me, thanks for asking," she retorts.

"But it was _your_ choice to accept this assignment. Couldn't you've told your bosses that you didn't feel comfortable coming here or that you thought someone else might be able to do a better job or that—"

"Josh Lyman, you are _such_ an idiot," she interjects with a sigh.

His mouth falls open for a second before he manages to utter, "Huh?"

"You know, all those times you teased me about being a heartless bitch, I thought you were doing just that: teasing. But now I realize that you really do think that's what I am." When he doesn't respond, she continues on to say, "I couldn't give the story to someone else or turn it down without coming here first because the idea for the story is mine. I came up with it. I pitched it. I spent two months fighting to get a space for it in an upcoming issue."

"You came up with the idea?" Josh asks slowly, almost skeptically.

"Yes, Josh, believe it or not, I'm actually not stupid. As a whole, the American public knows that the President doesn't write his own speeches. But if you ask a random sample of the public, 'Who do you think writes the President's speeches?,' the majority of those surveyed would say, 'The President.' _That's_ why I wanted to do this story. I felt it was about time Sam got his due."

Josh is speechless and can't seem to find the words he wants to say. "You… I… Wow… I…"

Rolling her eyes, Lisa spots her coat hanging on a coat rack in a corner of the room and makes her way towards it. "I still think it's about time Sam got his due, but it's too weird for him – for me, too – that I'm here. So I'm going to go back to New York, tell the Editor-in-Chief that I can't finish the story because there's a conflict of interest or something, and someone will come take my place."

Josh considers just letting her leave after she finishes putting on her coat, but because he's him, he can't stop himself from stating, "Well, that's all fine and good that you're trying to give Sam some much deserved face-time, but I still think you could've gone about it better."

With her back to him, Lisa clenches her jaw and has to refrain herself for yanking off one of her high-heeled shoes and attacking his face with it. She instead walks over to him, a small smile on her lips, and says, in a low voice, "I've spent the past few years trying really hard to hate you, Josh. But, despite how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to do it because, once upon a time, you were a really good friend to me. You kept me sane for a lot of years as you allowed me to air grievances about arrogant professors, ridiculous course requirements, an idiotic brother, and a set of loving but overbearing parents. So, in the spirit of the good times we once shared, let me let you in on a little secret. If I'd wanted Sam to stay with me in New York all those years ago, I could've gotten him to. Don't get me wrong, it would have taken a lot of cajoling, a lot whining, and probably a lot of yelling on my part, but in the end, he would've stayed. And we would've gotten married in September and he would've gotten a new job, and we would've ended up with our two-point-five kids and the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence." She pauses to take a quick breath and then launches into the meat of her argument. "But the reason I decided not to try to make him stay was because I knew that, one day, he would wake up and feel as if there was something missing from his life. He wouldn't know what it was and he wouldn't say anything to anyone about it because, well, it's Sam we're talking about and we both know that's how he is, but pretty soon he'd end up waking up every morning and going to sleep every night wondering, 'What if…?' I didn't want him to ever have to live with any regrets, so I let him go. Could you do the same thing for him, Josh?"

"What do you…what are you talking about?"

Lisa can tell she's rattled him with her comments by the way in which his body has sagged a bit and he's rapidly blinking his eyes. Recognizing that she's managed to ruffle the unflappable Joshua Lyman, she smiles more broadly. "Sam just told me that he's not sure whether he's done anything since coming to the White House. He said it kind of off-hand, so maybe he meant it, maybe he didn't. I don't know. But you call yourself his best friend and you've been with him all these years, what do you think? Does he really feel that way?"

She knows Josh has absolutely no idea whether or not Sam is really that unhappy, regardless of the fact that they spend sixteen hours of every day in the same wing of the same building together, and she knows he knows she knows this. He hangs his head, almost as an admission of guilt, and stares at his shoes. He'd had them polished that morning in honor of the State of the Union, and they now shine at him as the overhead lights bounce off of them. He'd had them polished because a State of the Union address is a symbol of a new beginning. A new beginning…a new book…a fresh start. But what does that all matter if Sam's miserable?

Reaching out, Lisa pats Josh on the shoulder and condescendingly says, "Take care of yourself, Josh. I'll see ya around."

He hears her clothes rustling as she exits the room and is then left alone in silence. Taking a few steps to his right, Josh looks around a doorframe into Sam's office. He sees Sam sitting at his desk, his laptop open in front of him, but he isn't working. He's instead staring blankly off into space, and there's no mistaking how forlorn he looks.

"Josh? Are you back here?" Upon asking the questions, Donna almost immediately spots her boss and rushes towards him, her blonde hair flowing behind her and a huge grin on her face. "Where've you been? I've been looking all over for you. We're trying to get C.J. to do 'The Jackal' for us, but she's being really difficult about it and Toby told me to come find you but I didn't know where you'd gone so I had to look everywhere and… Well, are you comin' or not?"

Josh shifts his gaze to his assistant and sees that she's so jazzed by the night's proceedings that she's literally bouncing before him. Forcing himself to smile, he responds, "I'll be there in a second. Just let me, um…let me get Sam."

"Okay."

Donna zooms back to the celebration occurring in the Oval Office as Josh's smile first wavers and then disappears entirely. Turning his attention back to Sam, he learns that his best friend is still sitting at his desk, staring off into space. Josh begins walking towards him when he's suddenly struck by how defeated Sam looks. Defeated, as if all hope is lost. This realization slams into him like an errant train, causing him to grab on to the frame of a nearby cubicle wall in order to prevent himself from toppling over. With a hand over his now pounding heart and his eyes growing larger with each passing second, Josh whispers, "Oh, God. What have I done?"

*~*

The end.


End file.
